Somewhere
by Kita the Spaz
Summary: Always so near and yet just out of reach, Jiraiya would offer her comfort if she would only accept it. Set during the search for the fifth Hokage.


**Somewhere**

Prompt: I know you're out there somewhere, by the Moody Blues.

Characters: Jiraiya and Tsunade

This was written as a thank you to my lovely friend Ookamikasumi for all her support!

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_Yumi sighed with pleasure and allowed her robe to slip off supple shoulders, bathed in the ghostly glow of the moon. Her smile was knowing as she pulled him close to her bountiful breasts. "I've been waiting for a long time for you to come to me," She breathed as she cupped his hands over her bared nipples. "I knew you were out there, somewhere."_

Jiraiya grumbled as he set his brush down for the fifth time in as many minutes. He glanced over at the blond form sprawled ungracefully on the other futon, wincing at the soft snores. Definitely not as good a companion as Yumi. The boy snorted and rolled over, a string of drool trailing from his lips to the pillow. Jiraiya sighed and gave up concentrating on his writing for a while. Maybe he would slip out to the open-air baths while Naruto was asleep. It would be quiet at this hour of the night and he could relax and ponder his next moves, both literal and literary.

He took himself to the baths, sighing as he slipped into the hot sulfur-scented waters. She had come this way, there was no denying it. Her photo had elicited several reactions where he had shown it, but this inn was the best lead. She and her companion had stayed here not three nights prior. There was no way the perverted old coot who ran this place would forget breasts like those.

Not that he was likely to forget them either. She was a model in more ways than one for Yumi, among other flaxen-haired, big-busted maids that graced the pages of his books. Not that she would give him the greeting that nubile Yumi had welcomed Hachiro with. Too damned bad… He wouldn't have minded a greeting like that from her. He briefly let his mind wander off into fantasies of his oldest friend that would earn him a brutal death at her hands if she were ever to find out he had harbored them.

He wished silently that he had had the courage to offer more than the comfort of a friend when Dan had died. He remembered how empty her eyes had been and how fragile she had seemed, when she had always been the strongest person he had known. His team had been the one to find hers there, her teammates unable to pry her fingers from Dan's bloody jacket without breaking them. She had been in shock, unresponsive, and the enemy nin were closing in. He had been the one to tear her fingers free of the cloth and set the immolation jutsu that had reduced the body of her beloved to fine gray ash.

She had never quite forgiven him for that; the punch that broke his cheekbone and nose was proof enough of that. He might have even deserved it, he acknowledged wryly, thinking of how he had rather brutally shaken her out of her self-induced catatonia. She had healed him almost immediately afterwards, but the steely set in her hazel eyes had warned that if he opened his mouth again, she'd happily break a few more bones. She did break his nose again a week later when he had returned the necklace he had taken from Dan's body before consigning it to the fire. He hadn't let her heal that one. He'd deserved the pain.

Heaving a sigh, he pulled himself out of his memories. Moonlight glinted on the water and he realized he been stewing in his past for nearly two hours. He stood, shedding water in silvered rivulets, and waded to where he'd left his towel. He needed sleep. Morning would come too soon and he had yet to figure out what he would say to her, when they caught up. She couldn't keep running forever. They would find her somehow, and she would listen to him. If he could only figure out what to say.

They caught up a week later. And damn his stupid, stubborn tongue; because he couldn't get out a single word of the arguments he'd managed to construct in the long hours on the road. It was only later, after her confrontation with his loudmouthed companion that he'd managed to garner up the guts to look for her. She was on the roof of the tallest building, staring into the night sky with a wistful expression that reminded him why he had stayed gone so long.

"Tsunade?" He was surprised at how hesitant his own voice had sounded. "What are you doing out here?"

Her hazel eyes darted to his for a moment. "You did it on purpose, didn't you, you old reprobate?"

"Eh?"

"He's just like him." She bit out, her eyes full of old pain and fresh anger. "He couldn't be more like Nawaki if they had been brothers. You saw that and decided to use it against me!" The anger in her voice flayed him.

"No."

"Don't lie to me, you asshole. I've had enough of your lies."

He grasped her arm. "I'm not lying." He dodged a fist that if it had connected would have taken his head clean off. "Okay, well, just a little. He reminded me of Nawaki too."

The fury seeped away at the sound of her brother's name and she sagged. "You are an ass." Her voice was tired.

"Tsu-chan." It was an old nickname and something of life returned to her eyes. He stepped closer. "Yes, I used his resemblance and I did it intentionally. I needed to shock you back to being yourself, the imp who could best me three out of four training sessions, the woman who could shoulder the weight of her world and not bend under it, the woman who could take over where Sensei left off."

"It's a tired old song, Jiraiya, and there are no new verses. I don't want the job."

Greatly daring, he caught her chin and tipped her head up to face him. Those eyes he could have gotten lost in once upon a time swam with tears. "I brought him because he also reminded me of you."

"Me?" There was an acid bite in the single word. "How could that brat remind you of me?"

"Because he has the same indomitable spirit you used to, in our youth. The same fire that drew people to you."

Her voice choked off on a gasp. "You're a fool."

"Better a fool, than a coward."

He didn't dodge this time, and the force of her blow sent him skidding across the tiled rooftop. "You hypocritical bastard! Why the hell don't you just take the job and leave me alone!"

"To drink and gamble yourself to death? I can't let you." He stood and brushed himself off, reflecting that he was going to hurt in the morning. "I'm not cut out for the job, no matter what those old buzzards say. You are. You never used to quail from making the hard decisions, always knew how to handle people. Your grandfather knew you would make a good Hokage, or he wouldn't have trained you in all he did, from politics to dealing with the stupid minutiae." He stepped forward again, coming within range of those deadly fists again. "We need you."

Her laugh was bitter. "Konoha doesn't need me."

"The village does. Maybe someday that knucklehead will be ready, but for now he isn't and he needs you too. He needs someone who can show him that some battles are fought with words and paperwork."

"That's not going to be me."

"It has to be." He said. He hesitated for a moment, then added, "What if I said there was someone else who could use your strength, needs your presence…?"

For a moment, their eyes met and then she doubled over in laughter. "Oh, dear gods, you're still writing that crap. Where do you come up with that stuff? I've never heard anything so corny and overused."

Jiraiya grinned widely. "Sex sells, and they eat up the cliché factor."

Tsunade chuckled and wiped her eyes. He didn't flinch when her hand reached out to touch his face and her strong fingers felt the bump of bone where his nose was ever so slightly crooked. "I would have healed this for you."

He caught her fingers. "I wouldn't have let you. I deserved it. Besides, it adds to my rugged good looks."

"In your dreams."

He only laughed. "Drink with me tonight? At least until I have to go get the bonehead because he's worn himself out training again?"

She chuckled. "That could be all night."

"Tell me about it. I don't even know why I'm paying for two beds. He never sleeps in his."

She followed him down from the roof and never once tried to reclaim the fingers he still held.


End file.
